


Going Native

by Regann



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, Family Drama, First Kiss, First Time, Genetic Engineering, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9837530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: An AU take on Season 5's "Doctor Bashir, I Presume." With no recourse but to resign from the service, Bashir takes a chance that he couldn't have contemplated as a Starfleet officer. Meanwhile, the crew looks for a creative solution that will keep their doctor on the station.





	

That day had finally come, the one he'd been dreading his whole life.  
  
At fifteen, he'd had nightmares about it constantly, pulse racing and lungs greedy for air, scaring himself awake night and night. It had taken a long time before he'd been able to keep those demons at bay but it hadn't kept them from haunting him whenever he felt a little too comfortable in his life, as if some traitorous part of himself refused to ever let him feel secure.  
  
But it didn't matter anymore because his worst fears had come true and now he would never feel secure.  
  
The truth had finally come out about Julian Bashir and his genetic enhancements.  
  
As he headed to Captain Sisko's office to offer his resignation, Julian tried to tamp down against the rising sense of panic that threatened. What would he do now? What was left for him with Starfleet and medicine barred? He had been reluctant to follow his father's advice as a young man but since then he _had_ dedicated his life to medicine and he'd found his calling. What was he going to do now that it was being taken from him?  
  
Even more frightening than that -- and Julian could admit it, especially as the sick fear churned in his gut -- were the reactions of the people who knew him to the news. He had been surprised and heartened by Miles's mild reaction but the Chief was a simple, direct man who looked at these things plainly; Julian doubted that he would be joined by many in his opinion that it didn't matter. He knew what most of them would think, the same things he'd thought in those sparse, secret moments when he was totally honest with himself.  
  
Unnatural. Freak. Monster.   
  
If Zimmerman was as efficient as Julian thought, the message about his enhancements was probably already en route to Starfleet Medical and he only had a handful of days before it would be common knowledge. That was fine with Julian -- those precious few days gave him enough time to say a few discreet goodbyes, pack his things and leave Deep Space Nine quietly. He had about fifty-two hours but it would be enough.  
  
It would have to be.  
  
Aside from Miles, Julian knew he wouldn't have the heart or the courage to be forthcoming with anyone else. He could probably fabricate some white lie about a family emergency to explain his upcoming departure but Julian was loathed to heap more deception between him and any of his friends. No, he would have to make due with an unannounced leave-taking and hope it was enough.  
  
Again, it would have to be.  
  
His feet wanted to falter as he reached Ops but Julian's determination was stronger than his fear or regret or anything else. He'd rehearsed what he'd wanted in case of this exact occurrence more times than he could remember and Julian refused to lose that one, last personal dignity. He would face Sisko, he would admit the truth and he would accept the consequences that he'd always known had been a possibility. Why was he surprised anyway? He'd worked it out in his head once and the chance of keeping his enhancements hidden for more than a few years had never been more than 40% and that estimate had never factored in the kind of close, personal bonds that he'd developed on Deep Space Nine.   
  
He should've been more surprised that it had lasted as long as it had.  
  
Julian squared his shoulders and stepped up to Sisko's office door.  
  
The time had come.  
  
**  
  
Captain Benjamin Sisko was still reeling from the revelations that Richard and Amsha Bashir had brought to him that morning when their son stepped into his office, his face as stony and masked as Sisko had ever seen the guileless, young doctor.  
  
Not quite as guileless as he'd once thought, Sisko reminded himself. Much more surprising than he'd ever thought possible.  
  
The doctor was shocked by his parents' presence, that much was evident. Bashir's eyes widened as they swept the office, first to his parents, then to the holographic version of Admiral Bennett and finally back to Sisko, a question in his eyes.   
  
"Come in, Doctor," Sisko said. "We were just talking about you."   
  
He addressed the admiral, then Dr. Bashir. "Admiral, allow me to introduce Doctor Julian Bashir. Doctor, this is Rear Admiral Bennett, Judge Advocate General."  
  
They exchanged nods of greeting.  
  
Bashir still seemed at a loss for words. "May I ask what's going on here?" He darted an uneasy look at his parents.  
  
"Your parents came to me this morning and explained the situation regarding your... genetic background," Sisko explained. "I contacted Admiral Bennett a short time ago."  
  
The doctor took in the misery on his parents' faces and then the flintiness of his commander's expression and he sighed. "I'm going to prison, aren't I?" he asked Bennett.  
  
His question seemed to surprise Bennett. "No, not prison, Doctor," he said. "Although you are the second Bashir today to bring up that possibility."   
  
Bashir's eyebrows rose and he looked at his parents again. When Bennett didn't seem inclined to explain, Sisko spoke. "Your father offered to go to prison for his crimes if it could save your commission and medical practice," he said mildly. "Unfortunately..."  
  
"Your father's conviction wouldn't save you, I'm afraid," Bennett added. "I am sorry, Captain Sisko, but there's nothing I can do."  
  
Sisko acknowledged him with a look but remained silent. He had his own ideas about what the Admiral could and could not do but it wasn't something he was going to address in front of the Bashir family.  
  
"It's quite all right, Admiral," the doctor said politely before turning to his commander, real gratitude in his eyes. "And you, Captain. The fact that you tried...it means a great deal. But I _am_ prepared for the consequences of this."  
  
"Jules..." Richard trailed off, corrected himself. " _Julian_. It's not right that you be punished for this. I'm the one who made the decision to have you altered. You were just a boy."  
  
"But I chose to join Starfleet when I knew I was barred," the doctor said, all quiet dignity and resolve. It reminded Sisko of why he'd become so fond of his young CMO over the years. "And I was the one who chose to practice medicine knowing that this was a real possibility. We all have our share of blame, Father."  
  
Richard nodded tightly as Amsha clutched at her hands, her dark eyes shining as she watched her son with obvious pride. Sisko was acquainted enough with the expression that he knew only decorum kept her from crushing her son in an embrace.  
  
"Doctor," Sisko said, pulling Bashir's attention away from his parents. The doctor faced him, jaw snapped tight to hide his tension. Sisko gave the watching admiral another dark look before he spoke more kindly to the youngest Bashir. "Your parents have informed me of your intention to give me your resignation." Before Bashir had a chance to nod or act on the opening, Sisko hurriedly continued. "I would like to ask you to hold off on it for a few more days."  
  
The doctor furrowed his brow, obviously confused. "Sir?"  
  
"You can't leave DS9 for another few days anyway," Sisko pointed out, knowing that the next Federation transport wasn't expected to dock at the station for another day and that it would be in port at least a day after that. "I'd like you to think about it a little longer before you hand it in."  
  
"But, Captain," Bashir shook his head. "There's really nothing else to be done."  
  
"Isn't there?" Sisko asked rhetorically, another look toward the brooding holographic image of the Judge Advocate General. "Well, let's just be sure of that before we make any decisions, shall we?"  
  
Bashir looked at him for a moment, an intense look, as if he searched for something. Finally he nodded and Sisko noticed that some of the stiffness seemed to leave his shoulders. "Thank you, sir."  
  
"Take the rest of the day," Sisko said gently. "I think you could use some real quality time with your parents now that you aren't being monopolized by Dr. Zimmerman."  
  
The doctor gestured for his parents to follow him as he moved toward the door. Richard nodded to the captain and Amsha leaned in to whisper her own thanks, squeezing his hand gently. Sisko watched them quietly until the door closed behind them; once they were gone, Sisko's expression darkened to thunderous as he faced Bennett again.  
  
"There _really_ isn't anything I can do, Ben," he told him. "The rules are there for a reason and they're ironclad -- no augments in Starfleet and no augments practicing medicine."  
  
"Putting aside the fact that those rules are prejudiced and archaic," Sisko began, "I don't believe for a minute that you can't at least try, so don't tell me otherwise."  
  
"People are still very uncomfortable about genetically enhanced individuals in the service," Bennett said. "I understand your loyalty to Mister Bashir but..."  
  
"But nothing!" Sisko reined in his temper before he spoke again. " _Doctor_ Bashir just helped save several members of my crew, this entire station and the planet of Bajor by revealing the existence of his Changeling replacement, and that was after being held prison by the Dominion for over a month. And we repay him how? By not even trying to keep him in a service that he's served exemplarily for the past five years?"  
  
"I've read Bashir's record," Bennett sighed.  
  
"Well then I suggest that you read it again and reacquaint yourself with everything else he's done," Sisko told him. "Because I am not going to let any part of Starfleet railroad that boy out of the 'fleet over something he had no control over."  
  
Bennett opened his mouth, thought better of it, and shut it again. "I'll try, Ben," he said finally. "I can't make any promises though."  
  
"That's all I ask," Sisko told him. " _Try_."  
  
Bennett nodded one last time before Sisko saw his projection tap the invisible control panel to deactivate their connection. The admiral's image fizzled away and Sisko reached for his baseball, his own personal worry stone. He clutched it in his palm for a moment before he tossed it up in the air a few times, an old distraction while his mind worked on the problem at hand. He knew he couldn't trust a favorable outcome for the situation to Bennett -- he had a feeling that it was up to him and his people to find a way to save one of their own.  
  
That determined, Sisko tapped his combadge. "Sisko to Kira."  
  
"Kira here, Captain."  
  
"Major, I want to see you, Dax, O'Brien, Mr. Worf and Odo in my office in an hour. Can you arrange that -- discreetly?"  
  
"Of course." She paused but he could tell the line was still opened. "What about Dr. Bashir?"  
  
"No," Sisko said and he could imagine Kira's surprise at Bashir's deliberate exclusion. "This is one conversation that will be better served by the doctor's absence."  
  
**  
  
For as long as Julian could remember, his mother had turned to cooking whenever she wanted to soothe her frayed nerves. Coming home from school, he had always known if his mother was upset about something by the bright scent of her native foods on the air, spicy and smoky compared to the standard and often replicated fare that they had usually had.  
  
While Amsha didn't have quite the range of selection she would've had on Earth, her imagination and Julian's replicator credits had her well on the way to planning a traditional feast for her husband and son.  
  
There was a pall over the Bashirs that pervaded Julian's quarters, over Amsha as she worked out her meal plans on a PADD, contemplating local produce that might replace unavailable Terran ingredients, over Julian who was working on a PADD as well, notes about the day-to-day operations of the infirmary for his replacement and even over Richard who was staring off into space, lost in thought.  
  
When someone finally spoke, it was Richard. "That captain of yours seems like a resourceful fellow," he observed. "There might be a chance, you know."  
  
Julian paused in making his notes. "I'm sure Captain Sisko will try -- he's a wonderful commander that way -- but I very much doubt it will come to anything."  
  
"Don't lose hope yet, my dear," Amsha said, also distracted from her PADD. "We will give him his few days and then see, hmmm?"  
  
"I'm just being realistic, Mother," Julian told her. "I have to come to terms with the fact that I'm leaving Starfleet, although I don't have any idea where I'm going once I do."  
  
"You'll come back to Earth with us," his father announced. "And we'll figure something out. I know we can come up with something that'll work."  
  
Only a few days ago, Julian had blown up at his father for talking about plans but with a cooler head and some perspective, he realized it was his father's coping mechanism the same way cooking was his mother's. Julian wasn't about to start that fight again, not after his father had offered to go to prison for him. "Thank you, Father."  
  
After another moment of awkward silence, Amsha presented her PADD to her son. "Julian, which of these ingredients do you think I might find local substitutes for? I assume there is a grocer of some sort here on the station?"  
  
"There are several Bajoran merchants who sell local foodstuff. Their shops are on the Promenade." Julian studied her menu and ingredient list. "Alvas will do nicely for the grapes and kava nuts will be suitable for pistachios or walnuts." He glanced up and smiled at his mother. "I personally like Bajoran moba fruit which should work in place of something like your apricots."  
  
She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze as she collected her PADD from him. "I will return after I have purchased everything." Amsha tapped her PADD in emphasis. "You two will behave if I leave you alone?"  
  
"We're not children, Amsha," Richard admonished her.  
  
"Adults, both of us," Julian added. For his trouble, his mother kissed him in the middle of his forehead, just as she had done when he'd been five. He tried to scowl but didn't work on her at all.  
  
Amsha smiled and said her goodbyes. As soon as the door slid close behind her, Richard mumbled an excuse to use the computer terminal to access the news services and Julian settled down to finish his notes, trying desperately not to focus on his life after the next few days, when he would no longer be a Starfleet officer or a doctor.  
  
**  
  
  
Once his group was assembled, Sisko wasted no time explaining the situation to them. O'Brien, he'd learned from the Bashirs, already knew most of the particulars but the others had no idea how close they were to losing their chief medical officer.  
  
"People actually do that?" Kira asked as soon as Sisko finished talking. Everyone else seemed stunned into silence while O'Brien just looked miserable. "People genetically alter their own children?"  
  
"Hundreds of years ago, scientists on Earth tried to engineer the perfect humans," Sisko told her. "They created supermen who tried to take over the planet. It's why it's against Federation law now."  
  
"Julian said that his parents had been convinced that he was severally disadvantaged," O'Brien added, though Sisko could tell he didn't approve of their decision. "They were just trying to make his life easier in the long run."  
  
"While this is all fascinating," Odo said, cutting off whatever incredulous thing Kira was going to say next. "It's not the issue at hand. I assume, Captain, you want us to think of a way to keep DS9 from losing Doctor Bashir?"  
  
"Damn right I do," Sisko said, leaning forward a little in his chair. "I don't want to lose any of my people, especially the doctor, and especially when we just got him back from the Dominion."  
  
"We're all with you, Benjamin," Jadzia assured him. "We don't want to lose Julian any more than you do but it looks like our options are limited if Starfleet isn't willing to cut him some kind of deal."  
  
"That's what we have to figure it out," Sisko said. "Two days, people, before Doctor Bashir is going to have to resign from Starfleet. I want other options before then." He sighed, giving everyone one last steely look. "Dismissed."  
  
As everyone shuffled out of the room, Kira stayed behind. "Is there any chance that Starfleet will change their minds?"  
  
He spread his hands wide and shrugged. "I hope they will but I'm not counting on it." He shook his head. "This is up to us, Major."  
  
Kira nodded. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
**  
  
Even after his unexpected absence from the station, Garak had had no trouble catching up on his workload and he was once again left with a little too much time on his hands. While his shop always had a steady stream of customers, it was rarely overflowing, except during those all-too-brief periods of seasonal shift when the Bajorans did require a change in wardrobe. During the rest of the year, someone with a mind as silver-quick as Garak's could -- and did -- find the tailoring business mind-numbingly boring.  
  
It was times like these, when hardly anything was keeping his attention for very long, that Garak wished that his friendship with the good doctor hadn't waned so much. Though they still had the occasional lunches -- and even more so since their return from the Gamma Quadrant -- it lacked the intimacy that it once had and even Ziyal's sweetly adoring attention couldn't distract him from its loss.  
  
Garak accepted the changes. It was inevitable, he supposed, and probably a bit of his own fault: humans tended to hold onto hurts even as long as Cardassians and he _had_ tried to destroy a planet with the doctor on its surface. He supposed it was something that one might not forgive or forget.  
  
Still, their relationship had settled into something closer than it had been in years after they'd survived the Dominion prison camp together but the doctor had been conspicuously absent in the past several days. He knew part of it was that a Doctor Zimmerman was on the station working on his project with Bashir and that this had somehow necessitated the arrival of Bashir's parents.   
  
And given the way that his doctor talked about everything else, the complete lack of information Garak had gleaned about Mr. and Mrs. Bashir over the years spoke volumes about their place in the doctor's life.  
  
Garak had his head bent over a simple alteration when he felt eyes upon him from the shop's entrance. When he looked up, he caught side of a older human woman, dressed plainly but elegantly, loitering just inside the shop, a sack in one hand that was brimming with Bajoran produce.  
  
When she tore her eyes away from the shimmering line of a silk gown to see Garak watching her, she smiled hesitantly. "It is a very lovely garment," she said. "You do wonderful work."  
  
He didn't exactly know how he knew but Garak had a sneaking suspicion of who this unfamiliar visitor was. He wasn't sure if it was her smile or something about her dark eyes that reminded him of her son but Garak was almost certain that it was the doctor's mother who had just walked into his shop.  
  
"Thank you," Garak said, setting aside his work to approach the woman. She didn't seem concerned that he was Cardassian, which he found surprising. "Are you in the market for a wedding dress?"  
  
"No," she said, amusement in her voice. "Certainly not."  
  
"A pity because it would match your coloring well." Garak gestured toward the rest of his items. "If there is anything I can help you with, madam?"  
  
"I admit that I was merely curious," she told him. "This shop has caught my eye many times since I arrived on the station."  
  
"Doctor Bashir was remiss not to bring you by before this," Garak said, smiling a little at her surprise.   
  
"How did you know?" Mrs. Bashir asked.  
  
"Your son resembles you," Garak explained. "Something about the eyes, I think."  
  
"He looks like his grandfather," Mrs. Bashir said with that warmth that only doting mothers speaking of their children could summon. "Nader, my father."  
  
Garak nodded, more fascinated than he wanted to admit with this woman's knowledge of his friend. Out of some surprising bit of decency he hated to admit he had, he refrained from asking any leading questions that might have Mrs. Bashir share something else about him. "Well, my shop is yours, madam. Please feel free to peruse to your heart's content."  
  
He was on his way back to his work station when he heard Mrs. Bashir's voice again. "Your name is Garak, yes?"  
  
He turned around. "Yes," he admitted. "That would be me."  
  
"Jules...Julian, I mean, he mentioned you in some of his letters," she said. "And again on his last visit to see us. It took me a moment to remember the name. You are a very dear friend of his."  
  
Garak didn't want to admit that it pleased him that the doctor spoke of him warmly enough and often enough that his mother would remember. "Well, your son is a very dear friend of mine, too," he told her. "Which is why he should've brought you here before now. I will have to remember to tell him so at lunch next week."  
  
Mrs. Bashir's smile suddenly faded, leaving her sad and thoughtful. Garak couldn't imagine what he'd said that would have that kind of effect on her. Seemingly aware of his stare, Mrs. Bashir patted her grocers' bag. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Garak. But I must be on my way. I did promise Julian a home cooked meal for dinner tonight."  
  
"It's just Garak," he told her, as he'd told her son once. "Just plain, simple Garak."  
  
Mrs. Bashir's sad smile stayed with him long after she'd left and Garak couldn't help but wonder what had bothered the doctor's mother so. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from making a few discreet inquiries into it.  
  
After all, the doctor _was_ his very dear friend.  
  
**  
  
Even though he knew his mother's determination was never to be questioned, Julian was still impressed with the dinner she prepared that night. Though the dishes weren't exactly what he remembered from childhood, they were close enough and the memories they invoked allowed him to ignore the looming future a little bit longer.   
  
While their meal was far from a happy occasion, it was considerably more calm than any other meal they'd shared since his parents had reached Deep Space Nine and Julian was thankful for the breather. As if they could sense his thoughts, Richard and Amsha did not discuss the past or the future; they chatted about silly inconsequential things that filled the time and the silence without taking much thought.  
  
"I met a friend of yours today, Julian," his mother said about half-way through the meal. "The tailor, the one you used to speak of so fondly."  
  
"Garak," Julian said.   
  
Amsha nodded, finishing her bite before she continued. "I passed by his shop while I was shopping. He was very genial, which I wasn't expecting, I admit."  
  
"Cardassians can be much more genial than you might believe," Julian told her. "Especially when they put their minds to it."  
  
"You've met a lot of Cardassians working here, I suppose?" Richard asked, genuinely interested.   
  
"My share," Julian admitted. "The only one I really know though is Garak. Oh and Ziyal -- she's half Bajoran, half Cardassian." Julian looked thoughtfully down at his plate. "I'll have to remember to tell them goodbye before I leave."   
  
It was at that moment he'd realized he hadn't given much thought to a lot of things he'd need to settle before he left Deep Space Nine permanently.  
  
After dinner, alone in his quarters after his parents had retired, Julian tried to sort through the things he needed to do and people he'd want to bid farewell. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the risk of face-to-face goodbyes; he didn't trust himself with them and he didn't want to explain anything. He knew it was the cowardly way but he just wanted to leave quietly in his disgrace without trying to squeeze a half-dozen or so confessions into two days' time.  
  
There were exceptions, though. Miles and Sisko, who already knew the truth, would be afforded proper goodbyes. But for all his other friends and fellow crewmen, he'd leave messages for once he'd departed, once the rumors had started to circulate and they wanted to know the truth.  
  
Then there was Garak.  
  
Garak wasn't like anyone else in Julian's life; he couldn't imagine telling him truth but nor could he imagine just leaving him a message the way he planned for Kira or Odo or Jabara. Julian wasn't sure what lay in between the two -- just like he'd never been able to pin down exactly what lay between him and his so-called simple friend.  
  
Given everything that weighed on his mind, Julian wouldn't have been surprised if he'd dreamed up the old terrors of his fifteen-year-old self but there were no real nightmares, just vague shadows and scenes: of the Dominion prison, of his own fears come to life, of a fake memory given to him by the Founders.   
  
There was one undeniable trend in them: Garak hovered in the peripheries.   
  
It was more than Julian wanted to think about.  
  
The next morning, he took his normal shift in the infirmary and used the time to catalogue the different stages of his various research projects that he'd have to abandon now that he was no longer able to practice medicine. Leaving his projects was almost as difficult as leaving his friends but he painstakingly catalogued them and packed away what he could, leaving detailed notes in case his replacement wanted to continue them. Several had been very promising and he hoped someone did proceed with them at some time in the future.  
  
If his nurses thought his actions out of the ordinary, they didn't say a word about it and his Starfleet medics were too used to following orders to wonder why they were doing an inventory in the middle of the quarter, especially when they'd just done one ahead of schedule after the Changeling had been unmasked.  
  
With so much to wrap up before he would have to leave, Julian didn't bother breaking for lunch which was why O'Brien finally caught up with him eating replicated tabouleh in his office, poring over his medical logs.  
  
"What is that?" Miles asked, casting a doubtful look into his bowl.  
  
"I felt like something...homey," he explained vaguely, setting it aside. "What can I do for you, Chief? I'm really very busy."  
  
"Busy getting ready to leave, you mean?"  
  
Julian winced at the accusation in Miles's tone. "Actually, yes." He turned his back on his friend, eyes zeroing back on the files scrolling across his screen. "I have a great deal I need to finish before I can feel ready to turn the infirmary over to my replacement."  
  
"Then don't turn it over!"  
  
Julian sighed and turned back to Miles. "I don't have a choice," he said sadly. "I wish I did."  
  
"You're not even trying," Miles argued. "You're just giving up."  
  
Julian almost disagreed but then thought better of it. "Maybe I am," he said. "But maybe that's because I'm tired of hiding, of having to lie all the time. Maybe it's better this way."  
  
"No, nothing's better if it means you're leaving us," O'Brien told him. "We need you here. Don't you want to stay?"  
  
"Of _course_ I do!" Julian thought about the ache in his chest when he contemplated the reality of leaving the station, leaving his friends and...others that he cared about. "This is my home, Miles, the closest thing I've had to one in a long time but there's nothing I can do about it!"  
  
Miles grabbed him by both arms and shook him a little, the way he'd seen him do Molly sometimes when he admonished her. "We will figure something out, Julian," he told him. "Don't you give up on us yet."  
  
It was only after Miles had left that Julian wondered exactly who the "we" was.  
  
**  
  
It had been more emotionally taxing than Julian would've expected but by the time he left the infirmary that evening, it was organized, catalogued and documented in such a way that his successor would have none of the problems he had when he'd first arrived.  
  
His parents had asked to have dinner with him but Julian decided it was best for all involved if he skipped their invitation; they'd have more than enough time on the transport back to Earth to test the fragile peace that had been forged between him and his father. Instead he went back to his quarters and tried to begin the long process of taping his goodbye messages.  
  
He started with Sisko's, if only because he knew it was the one on which he wanted to appear the most collected, most dignified and that by the end he probably wouldn't be either. He told the captain how much he'd enjoyed serving under him, how much he'd learned from him and how much he'd appreciated Sisko's last and latest show of support in the face of the truth.  
  
"I know it sounds like all the things one is supposed to say, but I swear every word is the absolute truth. It has truly been an honor, Captain, to serve with you."  
  
His message for Jadzia was easier in some ways, more casual as he spoke of the friendship they had developed out of that first embarrassing infatuation he'd had with her. It had long since faded and he'd been happy to see her happy with Worf. Julian didn't bother telling her the particulars behind his disgrace -- Sisko could fill those in for her -- and instead he focused on the meaning their friendship had had for him and how it would continue to mean a great deal even as he left that life behind.  
  
"You were my first great friend on the station, Jadzia, and I haven't had many of those before. I'll carry that with me for the rest of my days, no matter where they might take me."  
  
Julian's words for Kira fell somewhere in between the two, more personal than what he'd left for his captain but certainly less so than the openness he'd had for Dax. He had always been in awe of the Bajoran and it hadn't faded much over the years even as they'd grown closer.   
  
"Nerys...I can't even begin to express the respect and admiration I have for you. You've shown me so much about how to face adversity and a world that isn't as pleasant as what I'd been taught to expect. Thank you for that."  
  
Once he was in the proper nostalgic mood, the sentiment had become easier to harness into words and within a few hours he'd had recorded goodbye for all but two very significant people: Miles and...Garak. Miles, already knowing the ugly truth behind everything, he would get his goodbyes in person; he knew the Chief would expect or accept nothing less. Julian wasn't sure when he'd feel up to it himself but knowing Miles, he'd take the decision out of his hands soon enough.  
  
That just left Garak.  
  
Julian could barely communicate to himself what he felt for Garak, let alone put it into words that would be the last they'd share. Part of him even wondered if a goodbye was necessary since Garak, more than anyone, would understand the selfish nature of that evasion, just as Julian had long ago accepted the unspoken rules that had governed their friendship. But the rules had never made it mean less to him as much as they had boxed and trapped within their parameters things that might've consumed him otherwise.   
  
Julian had tried to keep Garak out of his thoughts while he'd made his peace with leaving the station but the regret that lingered between them was too strong to be ignored, especially by someone who tried to be honest with himself even if he had never been able to be with the rest of the galaxy. The what-might-have-beens ached in his chest and burned in his mind, the flame fed by the sobering thought that he'd probably never see Garak again once he left the station in a few days. The others -- especially the 'fleet officers -- he had faith that he'd see again one day but he knew his exiled friend too well to think the same about him.  
  
The idea was more unsettling than he'd like to admit.  
  
There was already so many things about the situation that Julian knew he'd regret that he didn't want to leave with any more of them than he had to. He couldn't do anything about the ones tied to his genetic engineering or the loss of his commission; at this point, there was nothing that could be done.  
  
But the regrets he had about Garak, about what they had and hadn't been...  
  
Julian knew that impossible situations sometimes made people desperate, wild in ways they'd never dream of being otherwise; he was starting to feel that kind of desperate wildness clawing through his veins, whispering actions he'd refused to consider for years. Part of him wanted to take something away with him, something that he hadn't dared to have when he'd been Starfleet, something that might console him against the regrets he'd have that he could never change.  
  
An old Cardassian had once called him brash many years before and that same Cardassian had only lately called him foolishly brave as he'd laid dying in the prison barracks they'd shared for over a month.  
  
Julian decided that it was time to live up to Tain's opinion of him.  
  
**

After closing his shop for the day, Garak honored a promise he'd made earlier in the week and suffered through an interminable dinner with the ebullient young Ziyal and her less jovial guardian, Major Kira. It had been Ziyal's idea; he had a feeling that the Major had accepted with as much reluctance as he had. The dinner had been yet another situation in which he had wished for the good doctor's presence, if only so that Ziyal would've had at least one completely willing dinner companion.  
  
As soon as it had been polite to do so, Garak had escaped from the Major's quarters for the relative peace of his own. He found several messages waiting for him, most of which were frustratingly fragmented intelligence reports about the current situation in Cardassia and most of those were hearsay. He had to give the Dominion credit: they were destroying his network of informants in a way that the Obsidian Order and Central Command never had been able.  
  
Thoughts, even a passing one, of Doctor Bashir brought to mind his unexpected meeting with the Bashir matriarch -- and the puzzling unhappiness he'd seen flicker across her face. She had seemed a warm, intelligent woman from his first impression and the sadness he'd seen on her face -- terribly expressive, like her son's in that regard -- had seemed much too deep not to signal some kind of significant trouble for her or the good doctor.  
  
Garak was of the opinion that his friend had had enough ill fortune lately.  
  
Reminded that he'd wanted to do a little investigation into the Bashirs' current state of well-being, Garak was about to start messaging the best-known informants on the station -- namely Quark and Odo -- when there was a chime at his door.  
  
He answered it only to find that his thoughts had conjured up a flesh-and-blood specter -- the doctor standing nervously outside his quarters.  
  
"I hope I'm not disturbing you?" The doctor asked.  
  
"Of course not," Garak assured him, rising from his place at the computer. "I could use the company. Come in, please."  
  
Still looking unsure, Bashir entered, taking the seat indicated by his host. Garak settled across from him, letting some of his curiosity show on his face. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Doctor?"  
  
"I...we haven't seen much of each other lately," Bashir said. "I just thought I'd stop in and chat if you didn't mind the intrusion."  
  
"How very kind of you." There was only the smallest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "From what I've heard, you've been very preoccupied, what with Doctor Zimmerman's LMH project and your parents visiting."  
  
Bashir winced. "Yes, this has been a very..."  
  
"Busy?"  
  
"...trying time for me," Bashir finished, grimacing. "I'd never even had a chance to settle in since...you know...and then Zimmerman was here and _my parents_..."  
  
Garak relaxed a little with the doctor's oblique reference to their time in prison, if only because continued difficulties dealing with it was a very plausible explanation for his friend's nervousness and his late-night presence. "Your mother is charming woman," he teased.  
  
"Yes, she is, thank you." Bashir seemed to relax a little himself. "She told me that she stopped by your shop."  
  
Garak nodded, more absorbed in studying the lines of tension in Bashir's face than he was in their banal conversation. "She was admiring that wedding gown I created for the Isktar-Talan wedding."  
  
Bashir frowned, distracted as he tried to recall the Isktar-Talan nuptials. "I saw Ensign Isktar today -- she's not married."  
  
"That's because she found out that her Mr. Talan was tending to more than warp drives for his captain, if you gather my meaning."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Yes, she stopped by and informed me weeks ago that the event had been postponed indefinitely. Ziyal told me later that..." Garak trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence. What Ziyal had told him was that she and the doctor had been in the Replimat the same afternoon that engagement had played itself out where they'd witnessed the bloody argument. He'd been about to remind Bashir when he realized that _that_ Bashir must've been the Changeling infiltrator and not his obviously-perplexed friend.  
  
"Ah, Ziyal." There was something strange in Bashir's voice, beneath the confusion. He looked down at his hands. "And how is she? I haven't even seen her since I...since we returned."  
  
"As lovely as ever, of course," Garak said. "A little disillusioned with her father's defection but otherwise, quite well."  
  
Bashir nodded, rather absently. "I hear that she might be the one in the market for a wedding dress."  
  
For a moment, Garak had the ridiculous notion that the doctor was planning to propose to the girl. When he shook that particular horror from his mind, he spoke. "Where did you hear such a grossly inaccurate piece of information?"  
  
He shrugged. "People say things."  
  
"Did 'people' also name the groom for you?"  
  
The doctor shot an a disbelieving look. "You, Garak."  
  
" _Me_?"  
  
"Yes, you." Bashir shook his head. "Has she been spending time with anyone else?"  
  
"Other than your deceased doppelganger?" Garak watched Bashir blanch. "No."  
  
The grimace was back on the doctor's face. "I was just sharing what I heard, Garak. I know you're a man of secrets but I had no idea that you and Ziyal had grown so close. And I had no idea that Kira would let you live this long if you ever..."  
  
"Doctor," Garak began, an edge creeping into his voice. Admittedly, he liked spending time with Ziyal, was even flattered by her youthful infatuation with him in the way that all old men liked their egos flattered. But he had only ever let that kind of flattery turn into a more substantial connection a handful of times in his life and he did not consider Tora Ziyal one of those. "You should really know better than to listen to idle gossip on this station."  
  
"You mean you two didn't share a passionate embrace out on the Promenade when we returned from the Gamma Quadrant?" There was humor in his voice, but it was brittle, fragile over some other emotion.  
  
It was Garak's turn to grimace. "Point of fact, the Major _would not_ let me live if what you were saying was true."  
  
"So you aren't...?" Bashir didn't finish his sentence.  
  
"I doubt I'm anything you might've thought to ask, especially if it concerns Ziyal." Garak snorted. "I hope that wasn't the reason behind this little visit, Doctor."  
  
Bashir's shook his head. "Not at all, I assure you. Ziyal was the last thing on my mind when I decided to come here."  
  
"Then what was on your mind?" Garak asked, his bluntness catching Bashir off-guard. The doctor glanced up and his dark eyes finally met Garak's.   
  
The eye contact lasted only a second before Bashir's eyes slid away. "I've been thinking a lot about the past, Garak."  
  
"Have you?" Garak asked. "It's not usually a very rewarding endeavor, Doctor."  
  
Bashir inclined his head a little, as if agreeing. "I can't seem to help it. A month in prison and a string of those days in isolation. Then this project...I guess you could say that I'm being haunted by the ghosts of my past."  
  
At that, Garak couldn't help but laugh. "You are a very young man to be haunted by anything. And given what I do know about you, I doubt there is much that could."  
  
"You'd be surprised." Bashir flicked his eyes toward Garak for a moment and the Cardassian could almost believe the doctor's statement, seeing the conflict in his dark eyes. "Everyone has regrets, Garak."  
  
Garak was familiar with regret. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise."  
  
Bashir waved away his apology, unfolding his hunched form. From his new position, his eyes were no longer hidden by shadow; Garak could see how troubled they were, reminding him of the look he'd seen in the doctor's mother's eyes in his shop.   
  
"I can't tell you how much our friendship has meant to me over the years."  
  
Garak couldn't contain his surprise at the non sequitur. "Are you dying, Doctor?"  
  
Bashir looked startled himself. "What?"  
  
"Or, worse yet -- am I dying? Being deported, perhaps?"  
  
"What in the hell are you talking about, Garak?"  
  
"Obviously, there's something desperately wrong if you've come here to spout sentimental lies about how important I've been to you."  
  
The doctor looked shocked for a moment but then his face softened with amusement, the most relaxed and natural he'd looked since he came through the door. "Can't someone simply express admiration for a friend?"  
  
"On Cardassia, no," Garak said simply. "It's usually a sign that someone's going to be arrested."  
  
"Well, this isn't Cardassia," Bashir reminded him.  
  
"I'm well aware of that, Doctor."  
  
Bashir shook his head, amused in spite of himself. "Some things never change, do they?"  
  
Garak let his silence speak for him.  
  
"I told you I have some...regrets." The humor of a moment before had faded and something else shone in his eyes. "Some of those regrets have to do with you."  
  
There was an old Cardassian superstition about sensing danger through an itchy nose that Garak was suddenly reminded of -- he resisted the urge to scratch at his. "I can't imagine what you mean."  
  
The doctor watched him steadily, their eyes caught, and there was a belief that backed his softly, archly asked, "Can't you?"  
  
It was Garak who chose to look away then and the doctor rose from his chair, moved to look out over the stars. Bashir spoke again, voice still hushed. "I might be wrong in this but I never thought I was alone in wishing that our...relationship had went a certain way that it never managed to."  
  
Garak was on his feet, standing just far enough away from Bashir that their bodies didn't touch. It was both a temptation and a subtle challenge. "Then why didn't it ever change in this way you mean?"   
  
"I didn't trust you," Bashir said. "You didn't trust me. The time was never right. They're all plausible enough explanations." The doctor turned to face Garak and they were almost touching, cloth whispering between them. Bashir didn't seem the least bit intimidated by the proximity. "There was always a reason not to and we listened to it."  
  
The doctor was right when he said that there were reasons that had held him back over the years. But he doubted his reasons matched any of the ones that might've made the doctor hesitate. Garak's life had still been Cardassia's even when Cardassia hadn't wanted it and distractions from that fact couldn't have been allowed.  
  
Julian Bashir had been always been too distracting for Garak's comfort.  
  
"If I concede to your hypothesis, my dear doctor, what has changed to bring you here this evening?"  
  
"Everything," he said but there was an echo of derision in the word. "Me." Garak wanted to avoid the doctor's eyes since, as always, everything Bashir was feeling was splashed across his face, sadness and hope and determination. But he couldn't look away and it affected Garak more than he wanted to admit. "Nothing."  
  
He was almost proud of the doctor's evasiveness. _Almost._ "An admirable if meaningless response, Doctor. I expected better from you." Garak was turning away, signaling his withdrawal from the conversational skirmish.   
  
But the doctor stopped him, a hand on his arm, catching him in place, turning him back to face him. The grip was surprisingly firm, even through the layers of his tunic. He could feel the heat of the fingers down to his skin. "I don't want to regret this never happening between us, Garak. And I know if it doesn't, I will." The doctor let go of Garak's arm and his hand, joined by the other, came up to frame Garak's face, the human skin unbearably soft against his ridges and scales. Bashir's mouth followed his hands, feather-soft and teasing against his own, just a tempting brush before he drew back. "That's reason enough for me."  
  
Garak was not a particularly noble man, despite his occasional lapse into magnanimity at inopportune times. But he doubted even the most noble would've been able to resist _this_ \-- this offering of something he'd wanted for almost as long as he'd known the man offering it to him.   
  
And in many ways, although nothing and everything had changed, the two of them were in very different places than they'd once been and perhaps that made the difference -- or maybe it was just excuses didn't matter with the reality of the doctor in his arms and it was foolish to pretend otherwise.   
  
Garak crushed Bashir to him, bringing their lips together once again. He pushed the kisses from the delicate touch they'd started as to something wilder, closer to truth, something that Garak doubted he'd ever express in any way but this, with his teeth and tongue and hands, by exploring the warm flesh beneath his fingers, over the pulse he tasted as his teeth nipped at a bared throat. The doctor seemed to have a similar philosophy, all touch and slide and pull, no need for words between them for once.  
  
That night, Garak experienced many things but regret wasn't one of them.  
  
**  
  
Even with his imminent departure now hours away, Julian faced the next morning with more acceptance than he'd ever thought possible.   
  
He knew, on one hand, that some of it was simply the last echoes of happiness lingering from the night before, when he had made sure that he left with one less thing to regret -- and he still felt that way, in the proverbial light of the morning after. What he had shared with Garak was something he'd always wanted but denied himself for many reasons, two of which happened to be the wisdom of being a Starfleet officer sexually involved with a known spy and the greater fear of ruining their friendship by broaching the topic. He wouldn't be Starfleet after that morning and, if Garak had rejected him, he would've never seen him again.   
  
It had been a gamble but it had paid off. While Julian had some regret about not being able to explore it further, they were nothing in the face of the memories he took away from the evening.  
  
After slipping out of Garak's quarters and returning to his own, Julian's mother found him in his quarters mid-morning, packing the few personal items that were still scattered around his quarters. He'd showered upon arrival back to his rooms but instead of donning his uniform as he had so many other times, Julian had pulled on civilian clothes and tossed his dirty uniform into the recycler. His others were still hung in his closet, left for Sisko to dispose of once he was gone.  
  
Amsha stood silently at his bedroom entrance for a few moments before she finally spoke. "How you are feeling?"  
  
"Honestly, better than I did two days ago," he admitted, pausing in his work. He tried for a smile in response to his mother's concerned face. "I guess I just needed to process it."  
  
Amsha moved closer and took her son's empty hand. "Julian..."  
  
"Mother, it's fine," he said. Although it was a lie, he knew it would be fine eventually. He didn't have another choice. "I know you and Father only wanted what was best and if you could, you'd change things now. That's enough, I swear."  
  
She raised her other hand to pat his cheek as she'd done most of his childhood and he half-expected a flood of Arabic endearments to follow. But she merely said, "You are a good boy."  
  
He smiled. "And you are a good mother." Julian squeezed her hand. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish this by myself."  
  
His mother nodded, understandingly. "The transport leaves at 1300," she reminded him.  
  
"I know," he promised. "I've just got a few loose ends to tie up. I'll meet you there."  
  
Amsha gave his hand one more squeeze before she dropped it and left him to finish his packing in solitude. Julian disconnected his brain from the task and his hands flew through the work of packing and boxing the things he wanted to take back with him. Before he knew it, he was finished and his boxes were stacked neatly next to his luggage near the door, waiting to be loaded onto the transport.   
  
The only thing that he hadn't packed was his combadge and his resignation which lay on the barren table, waiting to be taken to Captain Sisko. It was the last thing on Julian's agenda but his usual efficiency meant that he'd be ready to deliver it hours before his transport left.  
  
As much as he wanted to hide until the last possible moment, Julian knew it wasn't his way. He grabbed his combadge and pinned it to his shirt, then tucked his resignation under his arm and headed to the infirmary. His staff seemed surprised to see him in civilian clothing -- though they were used to seeing him during his off-hours -- but paid him little attention as he tidied up his office and made sure that the instructional PADD was in clear view for whoever took over his duties. Once that was complete, he headed over to Quark's to say a quick farewell to Leeta -- only to find that she wasn't there.  
  
"It appears that she has taken up with another Starfleet doctor," Quark said sourly upon his question. "She quit and says she's leaving today to go back to Earth with him."  
  
The idea of Leeta and Zimmerman was enough to make him queasy but at least he could give Leeta a proper farewell on the transport. He thanked Quark and headed out on to the Promenade. With no other tasks left to finish, his destination was Ops and Sisko's office.   
  
If he made sure that he never passed near Garak's shop on his errands, Julian assured himself it was entirely coincidental.  
  
**  
  
Sisko looked around at his assembled command staff and hoped that one of them had had better luck at finding a clever solution to the problem that was Doctor Bashir's situation. He himself had spent every spare moment communicating with Bennett and with anyone else at Starfleet headquarters that might have been sympathetic to his problem and who might have been willing to help him save a brilliant young officer in dire straits through no fault of his own.  
  
He was frustratingly unsuccessful at finding any allies -- at least any that could actually help. Although they were still waiting on Major Kira to arrive, Sisko couldn't contain himself for another moment.  
  
"Doctor Bashir's transport is set to leave at 1300 hours," he told the assembled group. "So we're down to a few hours, people. I hope you have had better luck elsewhere than I have had with Starfleet."  
  
No one looked very happy.  
  
"I'm sorry, Benjamin," Jadzia said, frowning. "I've searched through every law, precedent, _anything_ that we might've been able to use and I can't find anything. The Federation is very strict on their stance on genetic engineering."  
  
"Except when it suits their needs," Worf growled. He had already shared some of the exceptions that the Federation had made in the name of research, exceptions that he had encountered during his time aboard the _USS Enterprise_.   
  
Jadzia continued. "Unfortunately, this isn't one of those times."  
  
Worf nodded tightly toward Jadzia before he spoke to Sisko. "I contacted Captain Picard and Lieutenant Commander Data, who is a personal friend of Doctor Bashir's. Though they were both dismayed to hear of these circumstances they too were unable to offer any advice, though Commander Data asked me to assure Doctor Bashir that should he need someone to testify on his behalf, he would be happy to oblige."  
  
"Nice sentiment but not what I was hoping for," sighed Sisko. "Anyone else have any luck?"  
  
O'Brien remained silent, but after a moment Odo spoke up. "If you think it would help, I could ask Ambassador Troi if she'd be willing to speak on his behalf. I believe that she might be amenable to doing so."  
  
"I'd rather not turn this into an interplanetary incident -- yet," he added. "But hold on to that thought, it might be all we have."  
  
"Well, we can't let Julian leave before we figure something out," O'Brien said. "If nothing else, we need to keep him on the station."  
  
"That's easy enough," Jadzia said. "We can stop the ship from leaving."  
  
"This is a Federation transport, not some Ferengi freighter," Odo cautioned. "We can't keep it tied up indefinitely. Not without good reason."  
  
"Let me at it," O'Brien asked, pushing up his sleeves a little, as if planning to get dirty. "I can find a good reason even if I have to make it happen myself."  
  
Sisko couldn't help but smile at the solidarity of his team. This was exactly why he didn't need them losing one of their own, not with a war with the Dominion on the horizon and who knew what else waiting around the corner. They'd be severely weakened with the loss of their bright young doctor.   
  
He was just about to start strategizing aloud once again when Major Kira burst in. She looked a little wild-eyed, he noticed, and something had her on edge; he couldn't tell if it was because she had the miracle they needed or if she was furious with her own failure.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, Captain," she said in a rush, clutching a PADD.   
  
"If you've brought good news, all is forgiven," Sisko deadpanned.  
  
Kira smiled. "Then you're all about to forgive me."  
  
Smiles to match the major's lit up Dax and O'Brien and even Worf and Odo looked less severe faced with Kira's announcement.   
  
"We're waiting, Major," Sisko said kindly.  
  
She jerked her head toward the holocommunicator. "Get Starfleet on the line," she said. "I've got some things to say to them."  
  
**  
  
Garak tended to close his shop around the same time every day for his lunch and today was no exception -- though he was less than happy about his lack of lunch companions, namely in the form of one Julian Bashir.  
  
Although they'd made no real promises to each other the night before, Garak knew his doctor well enough to know that he'd never risk five years of friendship on a one-night experiment. Early in their friendship, Julian might have and Garak had had to keep himself from taking advantage of that fact often enough in the beginning but, as they'd admitted the previous night, they had both changed since then.  
  
So while Garak wasn't worried necessarily, he wasn't entirely pleased with the way the doctor had hurried off just before the start of alpha shift and still had yet to make an appearance. It was only _polite_ , after all. He knew that there was a Federation transport leaving that afternoon and that the doctor's parents would probably be among its passengers. He supposed he could understand Julian's preoccupation but he was planning to let the good doctor know exactly what he thought of his behavior as soon as he saw him again.  
  
As if conjured by his thoughts, Garak looked up to see Mrs. Bashir coming his way through the Replimat, a mug in her hand. When she noticed him, she smiled and Garak couldn't help himself.  
  
"Good day, Mrs. Bashir."  
  
"Mr. Garak," she said in greeting. "Please call me Amsha."  
  
"Amsha," he nodded. "Would you care to join me while you finish your beverage?"  
  
She agreed, sliding into the chair opposite him. "Thank you, Mr. Garak."  
  
He might've corrected her but he had a feeling he wouldn't stop her use of "mister." When the steam rising from her beverage reached him, he was struck by its unfamiliar spicy scent. "May I ask what that is you're drinking? It's not your son's Tarkalean tea, that I know."  
  
"It is called qishr, a ginger coffee from my homeland on Earth," she explained. She shivered for effect. "I find this station colder than I would like, so I drink warm things constantly while I am here."  
  
"I agree with you wholeheartedly, madam," he told her truthfully. "This place is much too frigid for my blood."  
  
Amsha looked down into her mug for a moment, then back to Garak. "Did my son speak to you last night?"  
  
"Actually, yes, he did," he admitted cautiously. He doubted very much that the doctor had confided in his mother about such things, so Garak wasn't certain how she knew about it.  
  
She looked relieved. "I told him he needed to do so and in person. You do not leave your home of so many years and limit your goodbyes to taped messages. I taught him better than that."  
  
Garak didn't show one ounce of the turmoil he was feeling on his face or in his voice. "Yes, my mother would never let me do such a thing, either. Perfectly rude. Now, Amsha...your son wasn't very specific on the details. When is he leaving?"  
  
"On the transport with us," she said and Garak felt a little of his tension lessen. The most logical explanation was that the doctor was taking some leave time to reconnect with his parents. Then, Amsha continued. "He is to meet his father and I in the airlock after he has given Captain Sisko his resignation." She paused, as if thinking of something. "I hope he remembered to have his things put on the ship before now."  
  
He wanted to keep pressing for information, wanted to know every detail that he could glean from this amiable human woman but he found himself so distracted -- damn it, _pained_ \-- by the apparent fact that his doctor had resigned from Starfleet and was leaving the station without a word to him that he barely noticed when she excused herself to check on her son's luggage.  
  
As soon as Amsha had disappeared into the throng of people on the Promenade, Garak stood stiffly, discarded his uneaten lunch and left the Replimat, intent clear.  
  
He only had a few hours to find Doctor Bashir before he'd lose his chance.  
  
**  
  
Julian wasn't nearly as nervous when he reached Captain Sisko's office as he had been the first time, if only because he was better prepared for what was to come. He'd already offered his resignation once; he didn't think it would be much more difficult the second time.  
  
But as on his first visit, Julian was surprised as soon as he stepped inside, going pale at the assembly of people waiting for him. Besides the Captain, Dax, Odo, Worf and Kira had all squeezed into the room and the hologram of Admiral Bennett shimmered behind them. Even though he was daunted, Julian cleared his throat and bravely continued.  
  
"Captain," he said in greeting. "I was hoping that we could do this in private, sir."  
  
"Unfortunately, circumstances are beyond my control, Doctor," Sisko said. "This will have to do."  
  
He knew that Sisko probably thought it was a sign of support that everyone had shown up but it just made Julian even more miserable. Sighing, he decided to finish as quickly as possible. "Very well." He reached up and removed his combadge and laid it on top of the PADD that contained his resignation. He steadfastly ignored the others. "My resignation, sir, effective immediately."  
  
Sisko's face was unreadable but he moved the combadge to grab the PADD. He nodded, then looked back at Julian who swallowed nervously. "Then, as of this moment Julian Bashir...you are no longer an officer of Starfleet Command."  
  
Julian hadn't been prepared for how bleak the pronouncement would make him feel but he nodded. "Understood, sir."  
  
Sisko's expressionless mask cracked a little. "No need to call me 'sir,' anymore."  
  
He didn't trust his voice but he needed to take his leave, get away from all the pitiful looks before they drove him insane. "Since that's taken care of, if you all will excuse me..."  
  
"Not yet, Doctor," Sisko told him. "You're aren't getting away that easily."  
  
"Very well," he sighed.  
  
Jadzia looked like she wanted to cross the room and comfort him but it was Major Kira who stepped forward. "Since Doctor Bashir has been forced to resign his commission, that leaves Deep Space Nine without a chief medical officer," she said, addressing both Bennett and Sisko. "When I told the Bajoran government of this case, they were concerned with the idea of this station being deprived of a capable doctor and at such short notice." She shot Julian an unreadable look. "Therefore, the government has granted me the power to inform Starfleet that Bajor would like to choose their own medical officer for Deep Space Nine from here on out."  
  
"A reasonable request, I suppose," Bennett said.   
  
"We believe so," Kira said. Julian watched in confusion, wondering why he'd been asked to stay. He could only assume that Kira wanted his opinion on a suitable Bajoran replacement which he would be glad to provide if only he could escape the office that much more quickly. "We have already sent our request to the proper authorities at Starfleet headquarters. We are waiting for confirmation but we fully expect to have it accepted."  
  
Bennett nodded. "I don't understand what all of this has to do with me, however."  
  
"Major Kira wants for your advice, Admiral," Sisko explained. "She already has a replacement in mind."  
  
Bennett looked surprised. Julian was, too.  
  
Kira nodded. "Seeing as how Bajor isn't yet a part of the Federation and therefore may follow our own rules in what is and is not allowed in a medical officer, will Starfleet or the Federation object if our definition does not match theirs?"  
  
"If there is no serious safety breach, Starfleet isn't likely to object," the admiral said. "Even then, we cannot force you to follow our rules." The sentiment that the Federation would hardly risk their relationship with Bajor over the appointment of Deep Space Nine's new CMO was unspoken but clear.  
  
"Well if that's the case..." Kira turned away from Bennett and pinned Julian with one of her looks that used to frighten him. Now he only raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. "Julian, I am honored to be able to offer you the post of chief medical officer on the _Bajoran_ space station, Deep Space Nine, if you want it."  
  
Julian was sure that he wasn't hearing properly. "What?"  
  
Kira's stern face broke into a smile as Jadzia laughed and Miles shook his head. "Do you want to work for us or not?" Kira asked.  
  
Julian still wasn't sure he wasn't having some kind of stress-induced hallucination. "I don't think I understand."  
  
"She's offering you your job back, you eejit!" Miles said, torn between laughter and exasperation. "If you want to be rid of us, just say so!" He shook his head. "So much for enhanced intelligence!"  
  
"Chief!" Jadzia said.  
  
The truth finally began to sink into Julian's head and a smile spread across his face. Still not ready to speak, he turned from Kira to Sisko, to find his former commander smiling, too. "It's not your commission, Doctor," he said. "But it's the best we can do. We hope it's enough."  
  
"Captain..." Julian struggled to find the words. "Of course it's enough and _of course_ I want to stay. Major..." He straightened up and tried to at least pretend like he had some decorum left. "I am honored to accept your offer."  
  
The room exploded into sound and motion as everyone called out their approval all at once, moving toward Julian to offer their congratulations. He accepted hugs from Jadzia and Kira, something that almost one from Miles, and a hearty slap on the back from a grinning Sisko. Worf and Odo were a little more subdued but no less heartfelt and Julian felt a ringing sense of acceptance that he hadn't ever thought he would experience.   
  
These people all _knew_ and they wanted him around anyway. They weren't afraid of him or disgusted by him or anything that he'd worried about. That knowledge was even more precious than having his job back. Even if he was no longer Starfleet, it was a small price to pay to still be a doctor and to know that he had these people on his side.  
  
Kira pushed her way toward him once again, something clutched in her hand. "I have something for you," she said without preamble, opening her fist to reveal a Bajoran communicator like the ones that she and Odo wore. "Wear it well," she said, a little formally.  
  
"Thank you, Nerys," he said softly, taking the Bajoran-style communicator and affixing it on his shirt where his Starfleet combadge had been. "I can't begin to thank you and the Captain and...."  
  
She cut him off. "What? You think we want to break in another loudmouth know-it-all fresh out of Starfleet Medical? This was for us as much as you."  
  
Julian gave her another hug, surprising her into silence. As he released her, Miles wandered back to them from where he'd been saying his farewells to the admiral. "Guess I won't need all those excuses I'd made up to keep the transport from leavin', will I?"  
  
Miles's jest reminded Julian of something very important and his eyes widened. "Oh my god."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My parents," he said. "I have to tell them. They're expecting me on the transport soon."  
  
Sisko overheard. "I can have someone from Security locate them and bring them to Ops."  
  
"No, no, I'll go find them," Julian said, already extricating himself from the group.   
  
Sisko nodded. "Well, congratulations again, Doctor. It's good to have you back even if you never quite left this time."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Julian smiled, then strode purposefully away from his friends, intent on locating his parents.  
  
**  
  
Garak was beginning to have doubts in his own resourcefulness which was almost as distressing as the fact that he couldn't find the doctor anywhere. He'd started his search in the obvious places -- the infirmary, the doctor's quarters, his favorite haunts on the Promenade -- and had graduated to less likely locations, culminating in Quark's. There the Ferengi had informed him that Doctor Bashir had stopped by earlier, inquiring after Leeta.  
  
He told himself he wasn't remotely annoyed by the fact that Bashir had sought to bid Leeta farewell but not him.  
  
Admitting defeat -- at least for the time being -- Garak headed back to his shop which has been closed since he left for lunch. He was just about to step inside when he noticed the man in question moving his way.  
  
Garak slipped into his shop and waited patiently, one minute, then two until Julian was passing by the shop entrance; with the kind of fluid movement that only came from years of covert operations, he reached out, grabbed the doctor by the shoulder and dragged him inside.  
  
"Garak!"  
  
"Yes, good afternoon to you, too, Doctor," he said breezily. He still had one hand against the doctor's chest, holding him against the wall as he checked to make sure the shop door locked behind them. "It's nice of you to stop by -- I'd been hoping to have a little chat with you."  
  
Something that Garak assumed might've been guilt passed over the doctor's face. "I really need to speak with my parents right now. I promise I..."  
  
"Speaking of your parents," Garak interrupted, pinning Bashir with a look that had once been a very effective interrogation tool. It sufficiently cowed the doctor into silence. "I had the most interesting conversation with your mother not too long ago. Lovely woman but she seemed to be under the mistaken impression that you were planning to resign from Starfleet and leave the station today."  
  
Stricken was a very apt description for the expression on the doctor's face but Garak refused to let himself feel any sympathy. "She wasn't mistaken," Bashir said. "I did resign my commission and I had been planning on leaving today."  
  
He hadn't expected confirmation to hurt so much. "Funny how of all the things we ...touched upon...last evening, that never came up in the conversation." He dropped the hand that held the doctor in place.  
  
Bashir sighed, then spoke softly. "I can explain, Garak."  
  
"You have my undivided attention, Doctor," Garak said, voice tight.  
  
"I'm not...normal, Garak."  
  
"I'm not arguing the point."  
  
The doctor glared at that impertinent remark but continued. "There's something I've never told you -- well, anybody -- about myself, something that...well, it was found out a few days ago. Once Starfleet knew, I would be forced to leave the service and I would no longer be able to practice medicine on any Federation world. I decided to resign before they made me."  
  
It was another surprise among many for Garak in the past few days. "Excuse my disbelief, Doctor, but I have trouble believing that."  
  
"Well, it's true," Bashir told him and Garak could see the distress in the doctor's eyes, in the way his throat worked as he swallowed nervously. "I was genetically altered as a child -- enhanced. It's...very illegal in the Federation."  
  
Of the things that Garak might've suspected as the doctor's secret, genetic enhancement had never made the list. He'd known the doctor to be shrewdly intelligent and surprisingly adaptive; it had never, though, struck him as beyond normal human parameters.  
  
Then he realized why: the good doctor had been hiding his abilities all along.  
  
Garak's wide-eyed silence in the face of Bashir's revelation caused the doctor's face to shut down, all expression seeping away until it was a bland mask that Garak had learned was supposed to hide the human's hurt feelings. The grimness still showed through. "So now you know," he said coldly, harshly -- very un-Bashir-like. "So if you'll excuse me, I need to my find parents." The doctor shouldered past Garak, head down like a defeated animal.  
  
Though there were questions that still demanded answers -- and Garak would have them before long -- he felt his anger draining away. It was quite apparent that his doctor hadn't just been worried about Starfleet's reactions to his secret but his friends' as well. He wondered if there were some precedent of mistreatment that made Bashir expect rejection.  
  
"Doctor." Garak stopped with him a hand on his shoulder once again but this time his touch was much more gentle. "Julian."   
  
The doctor stopped, turned back to face Garak. "What, Garak?" he asked with a sigh.  
  
"Do you really think that I care? That it matters to me?" Garak shook his head, as if amused. "And you should realize the my respect for you has only grown to know that you've managed to keep something like this from me so completely. I never suspected."  
  
He could feel Bashir relax under his hand as the doctor looked up at him, fondness and exasperation in his still-wary expression. "I had to keep it from everyone," he said softly.   
  
"And I find that kind of subterfuge commendable," Garak said. "Truly, I underestimated you and for that I apologize. You're a much better liar than I ever realized."  
  
"Garak!"  
  
At that Garak smiled because Bashir had finally lost his air of wariness. The doctor couldn't stop himself from smiling back, the last vestige of fear fading with the action.   
  
But there were still things Garak needed to know.  
  
"And this is why you're leaving the station today?"  
  
"It's why I _was_ leaving," he said. "But I'm not any longer. I'm not in Starfleet anymore but Major Kira and Captain Sisko, they spoke with Starfleet and the Bajoran government...Bajor asked for rights to appoint their own doctor on Deep Space Nine and..."  
  
Garak noticed the Bajoran combadge on the doctor's shirt. "...and they chose you."  
  
Bashir smiled. "That's right. I don't have to leave or give up medicine this way."  
  
"Very smart of them," Garak said. "It's nice to see that the major's cozy relationship with the First Minister finally served us well."  
  
"That's a terrible thing to imply," Bashir pointed out.   
  
"Only because it's very likely the truth." Garak sobered, shooting the doctor another significant look. "I do have another question for you, Doctor."  
  
The wariness was back. "Yes?"  
  
Garak understood; he felt wary himself. "How does all this relate to last night, if it does at all?"  
  
"I told you last night." There was a flash of something unrecognizable over the doctor's face but it remained open, sincere but subdued. "I didn't want to leave without an idea of what...might've been."  
  
"And now that you aren't going anywhere and your regrets -- and curiosity -- have been assuaged?" His tone had just the right combination of edge and lightness, conveying idle interest but no real concern. It was a cultivated tone; Garak only hoped that he was still able to bluff when it came to Julian.  
  
"That would depend on you as much as me, I think," the doctor said, dark eyes searching Garak's. "What do you want, Garak?"  
  
"Ah, ah!" He held up his hand, shaking one finger in a patronizing manner. "I asked first."  
  
Bashir didn't answer immediately, watching Garak with the kind of intensity the doctor usually displayed in his lab, trying to understand some complex problem. "I don't regret it, even though I'm staying right where I am," he finally said, slowly, crisply, as if to make sure he wasn't misunderstood. "And...I wouldn't be adverse to it becoming a regular occurrence, if you..."  
  
As the doctor's slow, certain words permeated his brain, Garak felt relief swell in his chest and a warm glow spread that felt suspiciously like happiness, if he were to name it. The outward indication of his reaction was a smile, wide and devilish. "I've always enjoyed your companionship, my dear doctor, no more so than I did last evening."  
  
The doctor had a smile to answer his, spreading across his face, teeth white against his darker skin, lighting up his entire face in a way that made something in Garak ache pleasantly. "That's good, really good. I mean, I'm glad..."  
  
Garak took pity on Bashir and kissed him, ending the torrent of nervous chatter. The doctor didn't seem to mind at all.  
  
"This really is fantastic," the doctor said breathlessly as he pulled away, face flushed, "I want to finish this...discussion...but I really must go find my parents. Their transport is leaving soon and they still think I'm going with them."  
  
Garak took a step back, gesturing toward the shop entrance. "Don't let me stop you, Doctor."  
  
Bashir was still talking, even as he walked backward toward the shop entrance. "I'll see you later tonight?"  
  
"Feel free to stop by if you get the chance."  
  
"I'll be there as soon as I get..." The doctor paused, made a wide, vague motion with his hand which Garak took to mean "everything" "...settled. All right?"  
  
"The sooner you leave," Garak pointed out blandly as he started moving toward his workbench, "the sooner you'll have whatever settled, don't you agree?"  
  
Bashir shot him one last smile before he disappeared onto the Promenade. Once he was gone, Garak settled at his workbench, suddenly glad that his work was at its usual midseason standstill.   
  
Thoughts of the doctor were more than enough to keep his mind pleasantly occupied.  
  
**  
  
When the Federation transport left that afternoon, the Bashirs boarded it in much better spirits than they could've ever anticipated a few hours before.  
  
"I am so pleased for you," Amsha told her son, embracing him tightly as he saw them off from the airlock. "You are happy here."  
  
"Yes, I am, Mother," he said, almost sad that he wouldn't be spending more time with them. "Thank you."  
  
Richard pulled his son into a bone-crushing hug as well. "I told you things would work out for the best, Julian, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, you did," he agreed, smiling. "How could I ever have doubted you?"  
  
With promises to say in better contact and to visit each other more often, Julian watched his parents head onto the transport with surprisingly little regret over the events since their unexpected arrival.   
  
He knew that once the reality of no longer being a Starfleet officer sank in, he would miss it terribly but given the options that he'd thought existed once his secret had become known, being the civilian chief medical officer on Deep Space Nine was better than he could've imagined.  
  
News of his new status had yet to become common knowledge on the station, so Quark looked askance at his Bajoran combadge but refrained from asking the questions Julian knew crossed his mind when the doctor stopped for a drink at the bar once his parents had left. After the hectic nature of the day, he needed a few moments of relative solitude but he wasn't quite ready to face having to unpack his quarters.  
  
Quark gave him his drink and then leaned over the counter, as if he were taking Julian into his confidence. "Doesn't that just make you ill, Doctor?" he asked, motioning with his head toward the other end of the bar where Rom and Leeta were wrapped up in each other, oblivious to world around them. "It's disgusting. Disgusting, I tell you!"  
  
"Well, I wouldn't call it my favorite thing to look at, no," Julian admitted with humor. "But I'm happy for them. Leeta deserves to be happy and if Rom is what does it..." He left the sentence unfinished, instead downing his drink.  
  
"That's not the way it's supposed to work!" Quark was comically affronted by Julian's acceptance. "You aren't the least bit jealous? At all?"  
  
"Absolutely not," he assured him. "Leeta's not the only one who...well, let's just say that I think we're both better off where we are now than we were when we were together."  
  
"You saying you've got somebody new, Doctor?" He perked up at the chance of gossip.  
  
Julian just smiled. "I have an appointment, Quark. Good evening."  
  
Sooner than he planned, Julian ended up at Garak's quarters, although his friend didn't seem to mind. Despite their tête-à-tête in the tailor's shop, there were still things that needed to be said and they'd always been very good at conversations of all kinds so Julian had high hopes for their evening. He wasn't disappointed, especially since their evening passed much like the night before, though Julian was in less of a hurry the next morning.  
  
"I'm going to have to order some more clothes," Julian admitted as he slipped back into his shirt which still bore his new combadge. "Now that I won't be wearing uniforms everyday."  
  
"I could certainly use the work," Garak admitted, apparently happy to watch Julian dress from his current position in bed. "I just hope -- for your sake -- that you don't have to wear that abominable thing the Bajoran Militia considers a uniform."  
  
Julian grinned over his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. "I guess I'll find that out today when I meet with Major Kira." He paused, leaning back leisurely to rest on his elbows. "It's remarkable. I always thought losing my commission would be the death of me. But here I am, relatively at peace with the universe."  
  
"You're handling the entire situation much better than I did," Garak said.  
  
"Meaning what? The loss of rank?"  
  
"That, too," Garak said. "But I meant -- you are as much an exile on this station as I am, my dear. You can't practice medicine within Federation borders and you're no longer part of Starfleet. Circumstances have you trapped here as surely as they have me."  
  
"I never thought about it like that, but you're right," Julian said thoughtfully.   
  
Garak gave an elegant little nod which was at odds with his uncharacteristically relaxed carriage. "You are much more at peace with your new limits than I was with mine for a long time."  
  
"It probably hasn't sunk in yet," Julian said, a hint of self-deprecation in his words. "Give it time." Julian knew that more difficult times were ahead for him, when the limits of his new position in the world would chafe on him painfully. But at the moment, he didn't have it in him to be as negative as his companion. "At least I can still do what I do," he said a moment later. "It could be worse."  
  
"It can always be worse."  
  
"Well..." Julian ignored the aside and stretched a little, meaningfully letting his body brush against Garak's. "Exile here isn't without its attractions."  
  
"And so I have been saying, my dear," Garak smiled, slow and secret, lighting Julian's blood. "At least since I met you."  
  
**  
  
 **THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ - 2/2008
> 
> While I loved the idea that Bashir was hiding this secret of genetic enhancement, I have always had some serious issues with the episode itself, including the way they resolved it and allowed Bashir to remain in Starfleet, despite the rules against augments. It made me want to come up with a more plausible resolution which is what I tried to show here. Being a fan of G/B, of course, I added that in to the plot as well.


End file.
